Coffee & Rape
by i fell in love with a villain
Summary: Sarah happens to run into a strange situation in an alleyway including a crazy serial killer and a pissed-off paramedic. OC pov. Sylar/Peter. WARNING: contains rape.


"Spider! Hey!"

"Ugh, _what_?"

An irritated girl lifted her head, bright blue eyes filled with annoyance as she peered angrily at the boy in front of her. She leaned against a counter, arms crossed, head tilted to peer at him slightly, her long red hair pulled into another messy ponytail. Every morning she got up late and never had time to dry her hair after her shower. She always came into work with an uneven ponytail. It was like a trademark.

"You're on your shift," he said. He was the owner's son, but he was going to a college in the city. He acted like he owned the place, the little brat. "Act like it."

"This place is empty, obviously," she said in annoyance, waving her hand frantically at the mostly-empty bakery. "Besides, I take orders from your dad. I'm not scared of you, small fry."

His brown eyes burned with annoyance. "I'm two years younger than you. Two years."

"I'm two years wiser," she stuck her tongue out at him.

"Not two years mature," he grumbled, stalking back to his table, where his laptop sat. "Some people have essays to write."

"Mmm," she said, annoyed. "By the way, my name isn't Spider, for Gods sake! It's Sarah."

"Sure thing, Spider."

"Agggh!" she roared, throwing her arms in exasperation before she spun and stormed to the cash register in the front. She had earned the nickname after Joshua (the owner's son) found out about her 'spider obsession'. She had a tarantula at home and loved spiders, so he enjoyed calling her that. She hated the nickname though. Pretty ladies don't have nicknames like Spider. They have nicknames like 'Princess' or 'Angel'. Not 'Spider'.

"Oh, a customer," Joshua said vaguely as the door swung open. A man walked in, an unusual-looking man that wore a tattered jacket and a brooding, dark expression. He dragged over to the counter and Sarah eyed him wearily, but kept a polite expression on.

"May I help you?"

"Coffee," he said. "…black."

"Alright, is that all?"

"Mhm," he said.

"That would be $3.23," she said. He handed her a crumbled-up 5-dollar-bill, which she accepted, handing him the change. She turned and made the coffee, quiet skilled with her hands if she may say so herself. She brought him his coffee within moments, sliding it to him with another smile. She grimaced at his expression.

"Uh, sir, are you alright?"

"Fine, fine," he said in a grumble, sipping the coffee. He hissed. "Fuck, hot!"

"Well, yeah, it's hot," she said, stifling laughter. "Are you alright sir?"

"It's not sir, it's Sylar."

"Sylar. Well, are you all right, Sylar?"

He glared at her. "I'm fine." He took a long, exaggerated sip of his drink, as if to spite her. Sarah rolled her eyes, used to strange customers. This Sylar person sat at a table and drank his coffee, but he mostly stared out the window all wistful-like. Sarah grew an interest in him, his strange dark expression both terrifying and thrilling. Joshua just straight-up didn't like him. He even took the liberty of leaving his table to complain to her, knowing perfectly well she didn't care.

"Spider, he—"

"I'm not going to reply to you if you call me that," she said thinly.

"Spider, listen, I—"

"Lalalala," she plugged her ears with her thumbs. "Sorry, Joshy, can't hear you over all the static in my ears!" she said loudly. Sylar didn't flinch. Joshua did.

"_Sarah_," he said is if hurt just to say it. She unplugged her ears. "That guy is trouble. I can tell."

"Can you?" she didn't seem interested.

"Well…"

"We can't just kick him out. He's a paying customer," she shot him an annoyed look. "Joshy, go back to school. You can't learn about the business world at a fashion college."

"My college has nothing to do with the fact that guy is giving me the creeps," he hissed low at her, glaring at Sarah then Sylar. "Seriously, find a way."

"You're the owner's son. You do it."

"Whatever. I'll just leave and do my essay somewhere else."

"AHA! FINALLY!" she cried with glee. "Thank the heavens! No, thank you, mystery customer who I actually know the name of!" she stared at the ceiling in delight and awe. Joshua growled at her, slamming the keys on the counter.

"The place closes in an hour. Close the bakery."

"Aye," she said as he left, sending another weird look at Sylar. He just ignored the two the whole time, still staring at nothing. Sarah wasn't as bothered by it as Joshua was. After an hour, even after Sarah cleaned up all the tables and such, Sylar still didn't move, so Sarah left from the counter, hesitating once she reached his table.

"Um, sir…"

"Sylar," he didn't even look at her.

"Sylar, the bakery is closing."

"Ah," he said and looked at her, then out the window again. "Perfect timing. Thank you for the coffee."

"Um…" she said as he stood, tossing the empty cup and tossing it into the trash before he left. She stared after him, confused, then shrugged and finished up, locking the doors of the bakery behind her as she left. She twirled the keys on her finger, humming, walking down the night-lights of New York City. She loved the city at night. It was so bright and tempting, and unpredictable. She liked unpredictable.

"—fuck you, Sylar!" she suddenly heard to her right. Sarah froze, about to pass an alleyway. Now, any young woman walking home alone at night in the city would know not to go into an alley, or even peek into one. They would also know not to follow voices that were obviously arguing. But she knew that name, and honestly, Sarah wasn't a normal woman. She liked getting into trouble and pushing the envelope. So she peeked into the alley and odd enough, she could see what was going on even though it was 9:00 at night.

"That can be arranged."

Oh, there he was; the handsome man from the bakery. He was pressed against the wall, a brown-haired man in front of him, his strong arms pinning Sylar to the wall. Sylar didn't look scared or angry; in fact, he was smirking. Sarah was silent, watching with wide eyes, not sure what it was she was watching.

"Shut up, you _bastard_," the other man hissed, slamming him against the wall again with much force. "You killed my brother, you sick fuck!"

"I wasn't the one who straddled me wielding a nail gun, Peter," Sylar said smugly.

"FUCK YOU!" this Peter guy yelled, slamming him again, red in the face. "FUCK YOU, YOU SICK SONOVABITCH!"

Sarah grimaced. She knew she should walk away, but somehow, she was frozen to the spot, unable to move.

"Peter…" Sylar said slowly, alluringly. Sarah's heart began to race. "Your angry look…you know what it does to me."

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Peter screamed. "I swear to GOD I'm going to kill you! No, first, I'm going to rip you to pieces, little by little, make you fucking _scream_ for mercy, _then_ I'm going to kill you."

"Sounds interesting," Sylar said, lurching forward with sudden impressive force, and kissed Peter. Sarah stood, still frozen, but had enough decency to feel embarrassed. Yet she didn't look away; maybe it was the obvious hatred between the two that compelled her to continue to watch. Or, she was simply curious. It was probably both.

Peter struggled at first, of course, but Sylar slammed him against the wall this time, his mouth moving with impressive skill against Peter's. The other man was obviously pissed off at this, but he slumped, weak against Sylar's power, and squeezed his eyes tightly as Sylar devoured his lips.

Sarah felt her cheeks warm.

"Fuck you," Peter hissed when Sylar pulled away.

"It's the other way around, Peter," Sylar said, smiling darkly, hands moving to Peter's hips. He stepped forward, his own hips pressed against Peter's, who was still stuck between Sylar and the wall, helpless. He growled, and Sylar moved against him, once again kissing him. Peter bit his mouth in rage, but Sylar didn't stop. He suddenly pulled back, body and mouth, and slammed Peter face-first against the wall this time, said man's back to Sylar, who yanked down his pants.

"Fuck! Fuck it!" Peter gasped. "Stop! You sick, fucking, perverted, murdering, _bastard_!"

Sylar didn't listen. Sarah watched in horror as he yanked Peter's underwear next before he unbuckled his own belt and let his erection spring free. Sarah covered her mouth. This time, interest didn't keep her there. Horror did; she was frozen in fear. She was watching something terrifying right now…rape. Between two men. Usually Sarah would be laughing right now, but this wasn't some TV drama. This was _real._

That terrified her.

Sarah realized she had zoned off, and when she blinked she saw it all. Sylar was thrusting into Peter, and the poor man was withering against the wall screaming, but not in pleasure, it was sheer agony and rage. Sylar continued his thrusting, grunting with force, his large hands gripping Peter's shirt tightly.

Sarah felt bile in her throat.

Peter kept gasping out curses at Sylar, horrible things that would make Sarah cry, but not Sylar. He continued fucking Peter roughly, eyes shut, his head thrown back. Eventually he groaned, long and low and sensual, and white dripped down between Peter's thighs.

Sarah still couldn't move her feet.

"Fuck you, you sick, fucking, fuck, fuck, you…" Peter groaned, slumping onto the ground, trembling. Sarah saw blood drip from his hole, and she felt vomit in her mouth. She tried to move but she was frozen, still frozen.

Sylar licked his lips and pulled his pants up. "I think this is the first time I've seen you _beg_, Patrelli."

"Fuck you, you sick fucking….fuck…son of a…." he groaned, gripping his stomach. Sarah shivered. Sylar merely laughed, running his fingers through his hair.

"Well. Until next time."

"You're not…going to kill me?" Peter got out between his strangled groans and gasping, eyes full of hatred and rage and confusion. Mostly the first two.

"Not yet," Sylar said, stroking Peter's head. The other man cringed back, glaring at him with a firm scowl etched on his face. Sylar laughed. "Next time, maybe I'll fuck you again. Fuck you so hard you'll cry. Next time, I'll definitely make you cry."

Peter didn't answer this time. He shakily pulled at his pants, trying to lift them up. Sarah couldn't hold it back any longer; she felt it coming up, so fast and hot and disgusting, and she stumbled away from the alley and threw up on the side walk, shaking from head and toe. She covered her mouth, eyes still wide and cheeks a pale white.

She couldn't hear their voices anymore.

She closed her eyes and took deep breaths, lifting her head. She saw a body zoom above her; she swore it was human. But she just saw a man rape another man, and she was probably in shock and hallucinating, and she didn't want to stick around to see what happened next.

She ran the rest of the way home.

**

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**Author's Corner: **Whoa. I don't know. XD

I've written weird things before, but this takes the cake. I mean, Sylar is OOC, isn't he? Peter too. Hurr. I've never written a Heroes fic before, so, maybe that's it. Dude, I don't know why, but Sylar is a sick fuck right? So, I thought, like, he does a lot of fucked up stuff right? Why not rape? I mean, in HIS logic (at least in this fanfic) it's the one thing that can make it so he totally and utterly dominates Peter and makes him totally in his control and stuff. So yeah, that's my justification for writing this. *is still going to Hell* heh.

I love this show though, and the new episode I just watched on DVR was amazingggg. I was like "this doesn't beat the whole Peter-attacking-Sylar-with-a-nail-gun thing, but hey, it's close." I wrote this as a result.

Ooooooooooooops. Ohwell. Reviewplz? :D

No flames. I'm allergic to fire.


End file.
